Molly looked back, desperate to escape Sherlock and his hurtful words.

Another bad idea.

Molly tumbled head first into what felt like a rock wall. Landing on her bottom, she looked up and came face to face with a very angry, very big, very aggressive, and very drunk man.

"Look what we have 'ere! A li'l doll, ain't cha sweet'eart?!" He laughed loudly, bending over. Molly could smell the beer on his breath mixed with a stench that could only be described as never brushing his teeth infused with having a skunk being frightened in his mouth, that made her gag.

"Wha'?! Don' like me?" He had rippling muscles under his white t-shirt and tattoos that would be considered derogatory and inappropriate in most social functions. Molly suddenly found herself wishing that Sherlock would catch up to her, and quick.

"Maybe if I give you a li'l kiss? Then will ya like me?" The brute picked up the mouse of a women and slammed her against the wall, cutting off her air passage and causing what Molly was sure would result in a concussion.

He pressed his chapped lips against Molly's soft ones, ignoring her obvious attempt to escape her harasser. So she did what she could in a position like that: a knee was quickly acquainted with a groin, causing ripples of pain to ricochet the man's body.

Seizing her opportunity, she dropped to the floor, stumbling slightly, and began to run. Unfortunately, after running so far, her feet were sore so she didn't get very far before she was grabbed again.

"You li'l bitch. I'll teach you to run from me." Taking her last opportunity, Molly let out one last scream, "SHERLOCK!"

(Line Break)

Sherlock had been running aimlessly through the alley for any sign of Molly, already fearing the worst, when the scream reached his well attuned ears.

"Molly!" Sherlock raced after the voice that had echoed down the narrow brick walls, only to find Molly, tears streaming down her face, and being held to a wall by what he could only describe as the missing link that dyed his hair an unfortunate shade of what appeared to be piss color. Obviously, this gorilla-human had no intentions of just kissing her against her will as he was brutally ripping clothes from her body, her lab coat and jumper already on the dirt covered floor.

Almost as if he was possessed by a higher authority, Sherlock saw a band of red cover his eyes and completely lost control. He assumed this was what John had felt when he socked him in the nose, twice. When Sherlock awoke from his trance, the primate was gone and a close to naked Molly sat on the floor, crying horribly, and curled up in a ball. It didn't take a genius like Sherlock to conclude that she was severely injured, emotionally and physically.

As awkward as he was in this situation, Sherlock gently sat down beside her and pulled her into her arms. The adrenaline still pulsing through him, he remembered why he was chasing her in the first place.

"I'm Sorry."